


one fine spring day

by allsovacant



Series: something to cry on [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Death(s), Established Boyfriends Relationship, Eventual Suicide, Hurt, Illness, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Mention of brain tumour and suffering from its effects, Pain, Weddings, sad fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 05:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16111619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsovacant/pseuds/allsovacant
Summary: "Why are your hands so cold?" Sherlock asked quietly as tears fell from his eyes. But John didn't reply. John only looked at him, eyes defeated. Like he just accepted his fate and Sherlock felt even alone.He squeezed John's hand hard just tofeelhim. His gaze never leaving John's pale ones."Come back to me..." He whispered."Just one last time, come back to me."It was then that John tugged him in a tight embrace that he couldn't help but break down into tears. John held his hand and he felt warmth from them and from John's words."I haven't left."Haven't.______Beta'ed bysherlockandjohn2010My deepest gratitude for your help. I am still in awe that I made you cry the second time.





	one fine spring day

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This work deals with death and suicide. And although my knowledge of medicine and illnesses are a mess and super fiction, please still be warned for the emotions it could cause. Be safe.
> 
> •This work was inspired by (See the END NOTES) and this song that played on my mind while doing the garden. [ Till My Heartaches End](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=8b5eOfeQddY) by the band, PASSAGE. And particularly by this rare duet version; while the title came from a korean song. I only used the transliteration in English.

Sherlock banged open the twin gates of their mansion, his long coat felt heavy over his thin nightclothes. It's early morning and Sherlock had just woken up from his lie-in with John. But when he opened his eyes, John was nowhere to be found—until he looked out of the window. John was there, in the car he rented, and now speeding away.

He ran and ran, but the distance between them seemed to grow longer.

"John! Don't go!"

Tears streaked on Sherlock's face as he ran the long stretch of road. But still, it wasn't enough, he still couldn't reach John. And John isn't turning around. John isn't stopping. Why? What did he do last night? Sherlock struggled to remember, while tears blurred his eyes.

_Sherlock's fingers thread on John's soft blonde hair while his eyes are closed feeling the man's lips against the soft skin of his neck. Then John broke away and looked into his eyes. He felt in a daze as John's blue eyes darken from more than desire just by looking at him._

_'I love you. Always remember that, love. I love you and I will always love you. No matter what happens. Do you hear me, Sherlock?' John said to him._

_He was now lying comfortably wrapped tightly in John's arms. Running a hand against John's cheek, he leaned forward and kissed the tip of his boyfriend's nose._

_Sherlock stared with a loving gaze at the man who was the love of his young heart and now his boyfriend. When John saved him from being bullied and drowned in the river by the youngsters from their neighbouring town, the man had earned a place in Sherlock's heart. He was nine and John was thirteen, the first time they met. He never even thought someone would mean that much to him. They had been through rough times in their own struggles but together they pulled through._

_John's eyes bore into his and his heart swelled with affection, an equal of how John looks at him._

_'Yes, love. I heard you. And I love you too—so much. And always as well, John.'_

_They spent the night on the balcony of his room and Sherlock thought it was the most perfect evening that they had shared. The heavens witnessed their shared kiss, shared breath, of equal passion, of naked skins and warm embraces—under the starry night. A promise sealed with love._

But this...

_"No matter what happens..."  John said._

What is happening?

His shoes tipped him over a rock and Sherlock stumbled on his feet. He fell to the ground with a painful thud. But nothing is more painful than what he's feeling right now. He didn't care about the mud on his chin from last night's rain nor does he care that his coat and nightclothes are soaking wet from the pool of it. Or even care about the gash on his arms from the small sharp rocks beneath him.

He's already submerged and drowning in pain. Sherlock watched as John's car drove farther and farther away from him.

He broke into a breathless sob.  
"... I love you so much. John... come back... D-Don't leave me... P-Please..."

Sherlock slumped on his stomach on that road, cried and cried muttering a plea that no one will ever hear.

###

**A week later...**

Molly kicked open the door to John's flat. She isn't surprised to find three full plates of a day's meal. So—this bastard that is her best friend has been suffering as well. Good. That poor Sherlock hasn't been eating either. To Molly, the two were the most perfect couple she had ever a chance to meet. She met John when her class went to on-the-job-training at St. Bart's, and John's class were there as well. She was a bit shy before that, and she couldn't ask a question to the superiors that were assigned to them. John, the kind and compassionate man he is, saw her reluctance and offered his help. Ever since they had been friends and best friends. And then one day, John told her about this child that he'd met a few years back and that now they had become something more than that. And she was more than happy to have met Sherlock as well.

It has been a fucking week since John left Sherlock and the man has been going mad. She couldn't think of anything to explain to Sherlock because she didn't know what was happening to her best friend. And because she hates John, and won't talk to him. But John should have reached out to her as well.

She walked to the bedroom and found the culprit staring at the window. She heaved a heavy sigh and noticed John's body went rigid in acknowledgment of her presence, then relaxed again.

"I'm giving you five minutes to redeem yourself, John Watson." She said with contempt." I had a week to try and convince myself that I have to give you the chance to explain."

John didn't answer.

"Believe me when I say, I'm trying hard not to punch the lights out of you."

She watched as John's lips curved into a small smile. Then it was followed not by a laugh but tears. She winced. This bad?

But when John broke his silence, she then wished he hadn’t.

"I'm dying, Molly," John said in a firm but defeated voice.

Oh, my god.

That does it. Because John wouldn't lie about this.

"... In three months." John's voice was painfully calm. And suddenly she couldn't breathe. She's almost afraid to ask.

"...from w-what?" She breathed.

It was then that John looked at her, and the calmness in John's voice and the defeat in her best friend's eyes broke her.

"Brain tumor..." Her friend replied weakly. "High grade... A four..."

Tears fell from her eyes, as John continued with a broken voice.

"I c-can't. I can't do that to h-him. B-But... It's happening. He’s everything to me. He's my l-life... It w-was genetic. I know this w-would come. We shouldn't have met. H-How can I do this to him?"

She sniffed, wiping a hand across her face. "I'm so s-sorry, John..."

John shook his head, "I want to marry him, Molly. I want to spend my life with him. I want to grow old with him. But n-now..."

She put a hand on her mouth to muffle the sounds she makes. Silently hoping that the person she dragged from an unkempt bed—amidst the tossed sheets and clothes on the floor—and broken pieces of mirrors, and plates—the man she left on the stairs outside has already gone and never waited.

But when the door opened slowly, she was so wrong.

She turned to the door and saw Sherlock standing and staring at the man sitting on the edge of the bed. And when she looked at her best friend, John was staring back, then he shakes his head, a hand covering his face, breaking slowly into a sob.

She watched as Sherlock took measured steps towards John. She felt like an intruder to an intimate moment that should be between the two. More than limbs entwined and skins in contact—a raw and intimate moment that would carve its memory on her mind. Where she was a witness of unconditional love from Sherlock and John.

She watched as Sherlock kneeled on the dusty floor, crawled himself to John's thighs, and cradled the man to his arms. Then Sherlock took John's hand away and braced it on his waist. John's face tucked comfortably on Sherlock's chest. The two stayed like that and they let her see them in their vulnerable state.

After then, Sherlock brought his forehead to John's and whispered the words as John sobbed uncontrollably against Sherlock's arms. Words that will never be forgotten by her.

"Together—we'll be in this together, love. No matter what happens. Right? You p-promised..."

And when Sherlock pressed John more tightly to him, Molly stood up and hugged the two men—her treasured friends. Sherlock murmured thanks, and stayed silent the whole time, with John in his arms. She let herself out of the flat and went straight to a church. There she released all of the emotions that were left with what she witnessed today and prayed for Sherlock and John.

###

The past three months have been a whirlwind of emotions, raised voices and small misunderstandings. A trip to hospitals and almost day to day meetings with doctors. The symptoms of John's illness became worse. The vomiting, seizures, even memory loss. And to be honest, Sherlock is tired. He is so tired and John is being difficult. John has been irritable. And there's not much time left. Not when anytime John would...

Sherlock took John back to the mansion. He took care of him there. Medical needs, private doctors, specialists—everything that could help John, he gave. His brother Mycroft helped him as well. His parents are always beside them. John's father had already a new family and was out of the country. John's mother passed away from the same sickness when John was five years old. An orphanage took John before and supported his schooling until John could stand on his own, working part-time and studying. So it is Sherlock and Molly that John has. Molly visits when her studies allow her. And she helps when they need to travel out just to let John breathe fresh air.

The days leading to the inevitable made his boyfriend even weaker and irritated. Sherlock left school to take care of John. His reason was that he could always continue on a home-study basis, and that he needed to be with John. Just to be with him. There is a difference between feeling the agony of expecting for something bad to happen and the agony of knowing something bad is already happening. However, the pain of experiencing both are excruciatingly the same. And Sherlock is experiencing them both.

Still, John went angry at him and wasted two weeks of their limited time not talking to him.

And then one day, Sherlock just couldn't bear it, he shouted at John.

"Fine! Go on and die without talking to me! If that's what you really want! Don't even expect me at your funeral! I'm trying so hard to keep you with me. Why do you keep pushing me away?!"

He shouted out of frustration. He didn’t actually mean it. But he felt the reality weighs too much against them. And he felt really alone despite the help they're both getting and the reassurances of friends. Sherlock stomped out of their room to the garden. There he cried hard. He missed John so much despite John being there with him. He felt John had never returned when he drove away that morning.

John approached him later that day.

And that's also the time when Sherlock had a good look at the man he loves. John's even paler and thinner than usual. His blue eyes lost its glow. And his heart aches so much seeing him like this.

John sat behind him on a wooden bench, murmuring an apology to him. John took his hands and Sherlock cried. John's hand felt so cold, and Sherlock felt fear inside his chest.

"I'm—so s-sorry, Sher...lock," John said weakly, his speech slurring.

"Why are your hands so cold?" Sherlock asked quietly as tears fell from his eyes. But John didn't reply. John only looked at him, eyes defeated. Like he just accepted his fate and Sherlock felt even alone.

He squeezed John's hand hard just to feel him. His gaze never leaving John's pale ones.

"Come back to me..." He whispered.  
"Just one last time, come back to me."

It was then that John tugged him in a tight embrace that he couldn't help but break down into tears. John held his hand and he felt the warmth from them and from John's words.

"I haven't left."

Haven't.

###

When John learned about his illness, he couldn't believe it at first. He walked out of the hospital from his appointment for a check-up, due to the severe headaches and unwavering dizziness he kept on experiencing. He was careful enough not to let Sherlock know of his pain. But when it was confirmed, his world turned upside-down, that the only thing he kept focused on his mind was how to save Sherlock from so much pain. And the answer that came to his mind first was to leave Sherlock. It was equally painful for him too, and he was so wrong.

Now he was just grateful for the life he had. He was grateful for meeting Sherlock and having Molly by their side.

The last days of John's life happened like a film in front of him. And if John believed in miracles, one of them happened to him the week leading to the day of his and Sherlock's wedding. He was anxious but he was calm enough and strong enough to deal with the needed documents for their wedding with Sherlock by his side. And now here he is, on this day: To be married to the love of his life... And John couldn't ask for more. He was blessed with enough strength to stand in front of a number of guests and wait for his husband.

When the ceremony finally started, all he saw were smiling faces. Of Sherlock's parents, of Molly, the owners of the orphanage he grew up with, and of the other guests, they invited.

Sherlock appeared in the aisle and he held his breath. His Sherlock looked gorgeous - tousled raven curls, pale green-grey eyes focused on him, full of love and promises, cheeks flushed and smiling at him.

"Are you nervous?"  Sherlock mouthed to him from the end of the red carpet.

He smiled then shook his head lightly in a gesture of 'No'.

It was a beautiful morning—the first day of spring. All the flowers around the garden are in full bloom. And Sherlock, his Sherlock, his husband in a matter of minutes—blooming as well in his black tuxedo (same as his) and cream coloured tie. And even though John knew his husband has been craving to remove the tie, Sherlock's behaving very well. The thought made John smile even more. He stared at the man he knew he would love for the rest of his life or even the next life. He realised, even if his life was short - he had no regrets about the past. And Sherlock made that all possible. His Sherlock had been very brave and John couldn't ask for more but just strength—strength to give Sherlock a happy ending he could cherish. John closed his eyes as the stabbing feeling on his head derailed his thoughts. He winced from the onslaught of feeling sharp pointed nails being hammered inside his head.

Please... Just another ten minutes...

His knees almost buckled but he stood his ground. When he opened his eyes, Sherlock stood frozen in the middle of the aisle—hands shaking, eyes staring at him clouded with a lot of questions. And he held his gaze, letting his eyes answer them with all of his strength.

'Are you alright?'

'Yes...'

'N-Now?'

'No... Not yet...'

'John...'

'No... I won't... Not yet, Sherlock. Now come here and be my husband.'

Then he smiled—willing his face to show emotions of reassurance and relief, of love, of affection. And Sherlock smiled back at him. John mentally saved that look on Sherlock's face. He mouthed the words I love you, as Sherlock neared him.

Sherlock's in tears now but his smile never faded. And John thought it was so much brighter than usual. The place was brighter than usual. And then all of a sudden everything darkens and his world is about to turn upside down. His eyes closed but strong arms held him straight.

Not yet, John.  A strong firm voice inside him says. And when he opened his eyes again, he saw Sherlock's determined look. He slumped forward on Sherlock's shoulder, swallowing hard and muttering an apology. And Sherlock just held him tight whispering encouraging words.

Sherlock gave the back of his neck a firm squeeze and that was enough to give him strength. He looked sideways and nodded to the judge looking at them with concern to proceed.

###

Sherlock held John in his arms, giving strength to his husband while the judge read them the rites. He could barely understand what the judge was saying. His focus was solely on John. But both of them answered the questions that would bind them forever. Both of them reached out to each other's fingers and slip on the rings as a symbol of their unity. They held their hands together, both trembling, but firm, entwined—reassuring. Then Sherlock's focus is back on John. John's breathing. John's warmth. John's forehead against his. John's hand slipping away.

Slipping?  Then the voice of the judge startled him—

"You may now seal your promise with a kiss."

He smiled, and as he looked back at his husband, he saw John's eyes unfocused, lips shut tight from avoiding a scream. And then tears started to well in his husband's eyes. The crowd behind them stood in silence—waiting. And when Sherlock called John's name softly, John dragged them to the ground wailing in pain.

Sherlock let himself be dragged. He slumped on the carpeted ground with John in his arms. His eyes are focused on John, but in the corner of his eyes, Sherlock remembered the crowd being dispersed by the guards. His mother running to him with John's shot of morphine in hand. His father on the phone calling an ambulance. Molly fanning them and trying hard to hold back her tears.

He tried to clear his thoughts and cradled John's head closer to him. The man's lips are now trembling and pale. Sherlock's sweating has doubled and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He's having a panic attack but he wills himself to be strong for John. His John that understands him. John lifts a hand, pressing it to his chest and murmurs, 'Breathe... Sher..lock...'

And that's when Sherlock broke down in tears. He nodded and cries as he says 'I love you so much,' and John's name over and over again. He brought their lips together, sealing their promise of forever. And Sherlock knew that he will keep that promise for the remaining days of John's life and his.

###

There was no wedding reception. The guests had been sent home. The garden was now empty and only the memories remain.

John was taken back to the mansion with no doctor's present and nurses around. It was just John and Sherlock. Sherlock remained on his husband's side whispering about their own treasured silly moments and their future that will never come.

"I wa..nt you t-to do it, Sherl..ock."

John told him the evening of their wedding. They are back in the balcony of his room, lying on a pile of mattresses and cocooned in blankets. Just like that same night, three months ago.

"I w-want you to... do eve..ry single t-thing we t-talked... about. Pla...y t-the v-violin, s-solve... case..s, ex—plore the w-world. Everything—Then... when y-you're d-done e-exploring... W-When you've done e-everything." John paused, breathing hard. He pressed a hand lightly on John's chest like his husband did to him. And then he looked at John, the hesitation was all he could see in his husband's eyes.

"Go ahead, love." He murmured.

John struggled but continues, "A-And then...t-then y-you'll come t-to me... a-and tell...me a-about it. Is that... Is that too much to a-ask? If I w-want to... Please..?" Then Sherlock saw it, the fear in John's eyes. The fear he saw in his own eyes earlier at their wedding. The fear of losing him. In this case, John's fear of leaving him.

Sherlock smiled sadly and shook his head. He wrapped John in his arms so tight and they lay there that evening talking some more until midnight. Both laughing at their own silly stories. It was another memory to cherish for Sherlock and another day lost for John. Then both fell asleep with the whispers of 'I love you's' and 'Always'.

Later on at dawn, when that one fine spring morning was waiting to greet them as a newly wedded couple—John left the world wrapped in Sherlock's arms.

**A brief epilogue** **  
Twenty years later...**

He's been a consulting detective, had played the violin—in an orchestra, as a soloist, in his own stage. He traveled the world alone but never missed to have friends in those places. His parents had passed away long before and Mycroft too. Molly, aged old and widowed already. She's living the rest of her life comfortably by the countryside with her children and grandchildren and a dog. While he—had a house in Sussex, had a lot of bees, and he's living just fine.

For many years, Sherlock did what he and John wanted. But the missing piece of his heart and his life has never found itself back. But now he is finished being a wanderer. Soon he'll be home.

Sherlock stood in front of John's grave and smiled. He crouched down slowly to avoid spraining his aching hip. His old age made him fragile but it never stopped him from his unspoken promise to his beloved husband. He sat on the well-trimmed grass and put the white roses in full bloom on the vase next to John's headstone. He remembered John's last words to him.

"I w-want you to... do eve..ry single t-thing we t-talked... about. Pla...y t-the v-violin, s-solve... case..s, ex—plore the w-world. Everything—Then... when y-you're d-done e-exploring... W-When you've done e-everything—And then...t-then y-you'll come t-to me... a-and tell...me a-about it. Is that... Is that too much to a-ask? If I w-want to... Please...?"

He knew what his husband was asking of him. And who was he for not fulfilling it? When his husband had given him freedom. His own freedom to do anything he wants. Everything he wanted to have with John. It was a simple request and he realised that he would've done it. Right there and then. That evening—or that morning, when he woke up and John was already cold in his arms.

Sherlock draws a breath and releases it.

"Hello, love. I'm back. I'm sorry if I haven't been able to visit you except on our anniversaries, and I've not been telling any stories ever since..." He paused and pulls out a handkerchief out of his coat. He dabs the tears from his weary eyes and smiles again.

"... But I'm ready, John. I've come here just like you've asked me to. I'm ready to tell you about my adventures. I've missed you so much. I wish you were there with me..."

Sherlock pulled a small amber bottle from his coat and drank its contents. Then he lies down his fragile body, there on the grass, his eyes focused on the sky.

"Now listen, John, this is the story of one of my cases. I got it when I just turned twenty-nine. My first - actually. One that you would've... loved." He murmured to no one, his breathing ragged.

"... It is called 'A Study in Pink.'"

A familiar set of blue eyes and a warm smile welcomed him.

And then he felt the familiar warmth of a kiss on his cheek as his eyes closed and his breath stilled.

**Author's Note:**

> Earlier this morning, I woke up (when half of you probably are having dinner on the other half of the world), I went on gardening. After that, around passed seven o'clock, I was too exhausted to move then suddenly this half formed plot came into my mind and I started crying while sitting alone on a chair. And the scenes that you have read, REALLY, flashed before my eyes. Like I was watching it happening and I couldn't stop it as well as my tears. So I'm sobbing uncontrollably while typing furiously on my phone, my fingers aches—and see here, I'm an emotionally sensitive person—too emotional. Simple things make me laugh and simple things make me cry. Anyway, there I looked at the time and it was around twelve in the afternoon, that I was able to pull myself up together when I was near the ending. So now, I've posted this—I hope I could finally find peace and then I'll continue writing the other MCD on the works. Thank you for reading this fic and more importantly this NOTE. I love you guys—


End file.
